


You Meddling Sourwolf

by wilddragonflying



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Idiots, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Protective!Derek, Slow Build, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek interferes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Meddling Sourwolf

**Author's Note:**

> So, there are spoilers up to 4x02, and this takes place some time afterwards, I never really specify. But I really didn't like that scene where Stiles was talking to Scott about Malia climbing into his room and them having sex-- Stiles really didn't seem comfortable/happy about it. So this is my take on it, and Derek being a protective/meddling sourwolf.

Derek frowned when he caught a good whiff of Stiles in his loft-- the teenager smelled like pain, uneasiness, and upset. "Stiles?" he asked, coming down the stairs. "What's up?"

For once, Stiles wasn't all over the place, mouth going a mile a minute. Instead, he worried his lower lip before asking, "Can I spend the night here? I just-- don't want to sleep in my bed."

Derek wanted to ask why, but he knew better than to pry. Instead, he just nodded. "I've got an extra bedroom. Come on."

*** 

In the middle of the night, Derek woke up to footsteps approaching his bed. He tensed, until he realized it was just Stiles. Then he relaxed, and flipped over so he could sit up. "Stiles?"

He could practically feel the nervous energy coming from the younger man when he asked. "Can I sleep with you? Not like, in a sexy way, but just-- "

Derek cut him off by flipping the corner of the covers up. "It's fine. Climb in."

Stiles wasted no time in ducking under the covers, but then he seemed to hesitate; Derek thought he knew why, so he reached out and laid a hand on Stiles's upper arm. "Do you want me to hold you?"

Even in the dim light, Derek could see Stiles's nod, and so Derek carefully gathered the human in his arms, pulling him into his chest. "Let me know if you become uncomfortable," Derek murmured, rubbing one hand up and down Stiles's spine.

"This is good," Stiles mumbled, his voice muffled by Derek's shirt. The teen wrapped his arms around Derek's waist, pressing himself closer. "Better than Malia."

Stiles froze after that admission, and Derek almost did; he distrusted the coyote, but right now, Stiles was more important. "What does Malia do?" Derek asked, his voice soft-- not forcing an answer, but opening the door for the conversation if Stiles wanted to have it.

Apparently he did, because after a moment's hesitation, Stiles spoke. "She... Well, um. When I was possessed, we almost had sex, but then, afterwards, she really wanted to, so I said yes. Apparently she took that as carte blanche, though, because she'll come in my room most nights, and she's-- rough. Controlling. Leaves scratches all over my back because she can't control her shift. And then after, she always wants to... Cuddle's not the right word. Stick around, I guess. And she makes me be the little spoon." Stiles's voice was soft, hesitant, and Derek kept stroking his back through his confession.

He thought carefully before he spoke, finally starting with, "After the first time, when you said yes, did she give you a choice?"

Stiles shrugged. "I guess? Like, I've got plenty of opportunities to turn her away, but she never actually asks..."

"She should," Derek said quietly. "Or you should say something. But you're always welcome here," he added, feeling Stiles tense up. "I'm always willing to listen, but I think you should talk to her about this. Sex isn't something to take lightly."

Stiles was quiet; surprisingly, Derek could recognize this silence as Stiles's "thinking seriously" silence. He waited it out, still holding the human and rubbing Stiles's back. Eventually, Stiles said quietly, "I'll talk to her. Sometime."

Derek let the subject drop at that, just tucking Stiles's head under his chin and holding him.

***

The next day, Derek sought out Malia, finding her in the preserve. "Malia!" he called, getting her attention. When she turned around, Derek didn't let her get a chance to say anything before he started in. "What the hell have you been thinking, taking advantage of Stiles? I know he's been willing to help you fit in more after being a coyote for so long, but that doesn't mean you make him have sex with you."

Malia looked confused, and a bit angry that Derek was talking to her like this; well, tough shit. "He said yes," she snapped defensively. "I know about consent; Scott and Stiles explained it."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Did he say yes every time? Or did he just let you do what you wanted?"

That seemed to make her think. "He never pushed me away," she said, but now she seemed uncertain.

"That's not consent," Derek said, his voice softening. "That's him doing what he thinks you need him to. Did you try to go to him last night?"

"Yeah, but he wasn't there."

"That's because he was with me-- he didn't want to sleep in his room, because he knew that you'd show up." Maybe Derek was laying it on a bit thick, but honestly, he thought Malia needed it. She needed a reality check. "He's not really enjoying it, Malia, because you're not giving him a chance to. You need to talk to him, ask him if he's sure he wants this. Give him a chance to say no. Just give him a choice."

Malia seemed a bit overwhelmed, so Derek left it at that, turning and walking away.

***

Stiles was in his room screwing around on his laptop and debating whether or not he wanted to go back to Derek's that night-- it had been nice, sleeping in the older man's arms, not having to worry about Malia showing up, and being able to fall asleep without fresh scratches on his back and the churning in his gut that told him that something wasn't really right.

Stiles sighed, sitting back in his chair and scrubbing a hand over his face. Truth be known, nothing Derek had said last night had surprised him, really-- the fact that Derek had actually said anything had been more shocking than anything else. Stiles resolved to talk to Malia about it soon.

A tapping on his window interrupted his thoughts, and his stomach sank when he saw who was sitting outside the window. Still, he got up and opened it. "What is it?" he asked; Malia didn't usually show up until after dark, and it was barely six.

She looked a bit upset. "Can I talk to you?" she asked, not quite looking him in the eye-- it wasn't like her, and that made Stiles even more uneasy. Still, he stepped back out of the way with a nod, sitting down on his chair again. Malia perched on the edge of his bed, chewing on a fingernail; just as Stiles was about to ask her what she wanted to talk about, Malia blurted, "I'm sorry."

That brought Stiles up short. "For what?" he asked curiously.

"All those nights after the first time. Derek talked to me-- "

" _What?_ "

"He said you spent last night at his place, because you were worried I'd show up," Malia said softly, looking at the floor. "He explained to me that what I'd been doing with you wasn't right."

Stiles was going to kill that meddling wolf. "Malia-- "

"It really wasn't," she said before Stiles could think up some excuse or other. "If a male coyote had tried to do to me what I've been doing to you-- I wouldn't have just gone along with it. I would have torn his throat out, or tried to. I knew that, and I still-- "

"Malia, it's okay. Just... " Stiles blew out a breath, searching for words. "I like you. And you're attractive. I said yes the first time because I wanted to have sex with you, and then I let you do it because I figured, if it helped ground you, then it was okay."

"That doesn't mean you wanted to do it," Malia pointed out quietly.

Stiles shrugged. "It was just sex." But Derek's words from the night before echoed in his mind, and he couldn't hide his wince.

Malia saw it, Stiles knew; she sighed. "I won't do it anymore," she said quietly. "I like you, and I respect you. I wasn't acting like it before, but I will now."

Before Stiles could say anything, Malia was out the window and out of sight. Glancing at his laptop, Stiles decided he had better things to do than to procrastinate even more. He shut down the computer and stomped down the stairs. "I'm gonna go kill me a werewolf, Dad," he shouted in the direction of the living room.

He could hear his dad chuckle before calling back, "Don't forget the wolfsbane."

***

Stiles couldn't exactly slam the loft door, but he did his best. " _Derek!_ " he shouted, scowling as he stalked into the middle of the loft floor. "Get your meddling ass down here!"

Derek appeared at the top of the stairs, a resigned look on his face. "Malia talked to you, didn't she?" he asked as he started down the stairs.

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes. And she said that _you_ talked to her, about what I told you last night. I thought you'd keep that private! I was counting on it!"

At least Derek had the decency to look contrite. "Would you have talked to her anytime soon?" he asked after a moment. "Or would you have just let it continue?"

"I was going to talk to her," Stiles scowled, but the look on Derek's face told him that Derek had heard the unspoken _eventually._ "That doesn't excuse your meddling."

Derek appeared to be choosing his words carefully; Stiles just continued glaring at him while he did so. "You were in pain, and you were upset," Derek said finally. "You're pack. I don't know about Malia-- I don't trust her. But you and Scott do, so I guess she's pack, too. But I care about you. I don't want you upset, and I don't want you hurt. Malia was doing both, so I just made sure that she knew what she was doing."

"She told me she already knew," Stiles retorted; judging by the look on Derek's face, that was the wrong thing to say.

"Then that just makes it worse," Derek snapped, glaring. "If she knew what she was doing-- if she _knew_ she was taking advantage of you-- then I shouldn't have just talked to her; I should have fought her."

"Fought her?" Stiles echoed, incredulous. "Why the hell would you fight Malia over _me_?"

Derek looked at him like he was stupid; Stiles really hated that look. "I told you-- I care about you."

"So? Scott cares about me-- when I told him what was going on with Malia, he just congratulated me on getting laid!"

"Scott's an idealist," Derek snorted. "And you've been complaining about being a virgin-- did you tell him that you were uncomfortable with what Malia was doing?"

Stiles paused. "No," he said uncertainly. "But, he's my best friend. And he's my Alpha. He should have been able to tell--"

"Scott's a bitten wolf, and a new Alpha," Derek said, his voice softening; dammit, Stiles hated how he could do that. "He's also got his pack in Beacon Hills, which is one of the most supernaturally active places on the continent. He's got a lot to worry about, and he'll get better, but right now, he's bound to miss some things if they're not pointed out to him."

Stiles rubbed a hand over his face. "Still, you shouldn't have done that without asking me," he muttered, trying to refocus on the topic at hand.

Derek nodded. "I am sorry," he said quietly, stepping closer to Stiles. "I should have asked you first, you're right."

Stiles sighed. "Malia came to talk to me, told me that she liked me and respected me, and she realized now that she hadn't been treating me like she did."

"She's learning," Derek murmured; he was close enough to touch, now, and Stiles closed the distance between them almost unconsciously, resting his forehead on Derek's shoulder. "I should probably thank you," he mumbled.

He felt Derek shrug as he wrapped his arms around Stiles. "You don't have to," the wolf murmured.

***

Stiles ended up staying the night at Derek's loft that night, and pretty much every other night. He still slept at home about half the time, but the sheriff couldn't be there every night, and when the nightmares got particularly bad, Stiles's first move was always to call Derek; sometimes the wolf would come to Stiles's house, check everything just to help make Stiles feel safer, and then hold Stiles for the rest of the night, standing guard. Other times, Derek would pick Stiles up-- he never let Stiles drive over; the one time Stiles had tried, Derek had made him pull over and get out of his Jeep and into the Camaro-- and take him back to the loft, where they'd lay on Derek's bed and talk for a while before Stiles fell asleep.

The rest of the pack started noticing how much time Stiles was spending with Derek; Scott had asked him about that, asked why he smelled more like Derek than like Malia now. Malia had stopped coming over for sex; she still came over sometimes, to talk and watch television(she was captivated by the older cartoons that showed on Boomerang), but she never pushed or asked for sex. Lydia had commented that Stiles seemed calmer, more put-together, and Kira had agreed. Hell, even Peter had told Stiles that he was glad the teenager wasn't spending as much time with Malia; he had never seemed happy with her, the wolf said. Stiles didn't want to think about what else that implied.

Only, he kind of did. A lot. He had started to like Derek, yeah-- how could he not, with how the wolf was helping him feel safer after everything that had gone down with the Nogitsune? And he did trust Derek, but that didn't mean he _like_ -liked Derek, did it? Derek was hot like burning, but so was everyone else Stiles knew, pretty much. Beacon Hills seemed to have won the lottery in the gene pool. And yeah, Derek had featured in some of his fantasies when he'd jerked off-- but come on. Stiles liked being pushed around a little, and Derek had done more than enough of that. He still fantasized about a lot of people, but--

_Well, damn._ Stiles still fantasized about a lot of people, _but_ it was Derek's name he always ended up muffling with his fist, a pillow, or a balled up sheet. It was the thought of Derek fucking him that made him come the hardest; the thought of Derek taking his time, slow and sweet, that gave Stiles the best orgasms and left him with a smile on his face.

_Fuck._

***

Things got a bit awkward after that; Stiles couldn't spend much time with Derek without wondering what it would feel like to just lay with his head in the wolf's lap, or wondering if Derek would be the kind to come up behind Stiles and wrap him in his arms and drop a kiss to the back of Stiles's neck. Stiles bet Derek would do stuff like that-- bet Derek would be overly affectionate, maybe give Scott and Kira a run for the money in nauseating couple-y-ness. 

It was starting to become a problem, and Derek was starting to notice; Stiles had pulled away more than a couple of times because he'd been _this_ close to just leaning in for a kiss, and Stiles had seen the confused look on Derek's face. Stiles had always been accepting of his physical affection before, but now Stiles couldn't help it. He'd pull away, or flinch, or not spend as long letting Derek hold him as he used to. Stiles had seen the thoughtful and confused looks-- thought maybe he'd even caught a hurt look once or twice-- on Derek's face, and he could tell that it was getting to Derek.

***

Derek was the one to finally bring it up. "Are you okay?" he asked, after Stiles had just pulled away from where he'd been leaning against Derek's side while they watched _Bones._ "You've been acting a bit off lately."

Stiles shrugged, fighting down a hysterical laugh. "I'm fine," he said dismissively; even he could feel his heart skip a beat over the lie, though. "It's nothing." Another lie.

Stiles could all but see the wheels turning in Derek's head. "You're not okay, and it's not nothing," Derek said after a moment. "You can trust me, Stiles. What's going on?"

Stiles shrugged, fiddling with a frayed thread on the couch cushion. "I like you," he said finally; he wasn't going to lie about or hide this. "A lot. And it's confusing, because I don't know what you meant when you said you cared about me-- I don't think I love you yet, but... But I think it's getting close to that."

He recognized the following silence as Derek's thoughtful silence, and barely refrained from fidgeting anymore than he already was, waiting for Derek to put him out of his misery one way or another. "I meant it when I said I cared about you," Derek started, "and I think I'm in the same boat as you-- I like you a lot, but I don't think I love you yet."

Stiles let out the breath he'd been holding. "But you think you could?" he asked, almost hating how hopeful he sounded.

Derek smiled at him. "Yeah. I think I could."

***

Things didn't magically fall into place after that, much as Stiles would have liked them to. For one thing, he was still only seventeen; the sheriff had only said as long as Derek made him happy, then okay. Otherwise, he was pulling out the wolfsbane. So that was one worry down. He and Derek hadn't gone through an awkward "okay now we're dating... How are we supposed to act around each other after everything we've seen and done?" stage; they'd pretty much already passed that _long_ ago, just without the "now we're dating" part. It really didn't make that much of a difference.

They had yet to kiss, but Stiles was perfectly okay with that. Okay, that was a lie. He was a little disappointed, but honestly, he'd rather wait for the kiss rather than make things awkward. Derek had become even more physically affectionate, boldy pulling Stiles into his lap or arms when they were alone or around the pack; Stiles had worried that Malia might be upset, but when he'd tried to make some excuse, Malia had just smiled and told him that she was happy for him. She seemed a little sad, and she was a bit quiet at first when Stiles and Derek first got together, but she seemed to get over it quickly enough. Scott had been confused, but accepted it readily enough. Lydia had just grinned and turned to Kira, announcing that she'd just won the bet. When Kira had grumbled as she handed over a ten dollar bill, Lydia had just told her to never bet against a genius.

***

The first time they kissed was on Stiles's eighteenth birthday, and Derek had nearly gotten himself killed protecting Stiles from a _seriously_ pissed off, seriously powerful witch. When he finished healing, Stiles had punched him in the face, called him a moronic sourwolf, and then kissed him. The rest of the pack, who had all been gathered at Derek's loft to lick their physical and metaphorical wounds(the witch had gotten into some of their heads, and a lot of hurtful but untrue things had been said and insinuated), had cheered, with several choruses of "Finally!" Stiles and Derek had flipped them off in unison.

The first time they had sex was Stiles's first weekend back from Berkeley; he had collapsed on Derek's bed after getting back from his three-times-as-long-as-necessary trip(Stiles swore he was going to kill anyone who even _thought_ that trying to pass a tractor trailer that was already pulling into the fast lane to pass another slower tractor trailer was a good idea), and when he'd woken up to find Derek freshly-showered and wrapped in only a towel, well, Stiles really couldn't be blamed for climbing his boyfriend like a tree.


End file.
